The Million-Dollar Trap

gh the forgotten part of our rust-belt town, where cracked pavement and boarded-up storefronts were

ng my mom, Jennifer, with the turkey, even thou

o couldn't sell a car, claimed he

ark in Florida with her family, complaining in the g

his rundown house as a downer, a stain on their perfect holiday pl

kin. The yard was a mess of weeds. I had saved up from my barista job to f

The house was cold, a damp chill

?" I cal

I remembered from last week, his face pale and his breathing shallow. An empty can of chicke

ife in the steel mill, a proud Vietnam vet,

weak smile touching

Grandpa. I brought

. I started unpacking them in his dusty kitchen, my anger at my family a hard knot in my stom